LOGINSimoneThe words hit like a pulse between my legs. My nipples harden against the fabric of my dress. My breath hitches, sharp and shaky, like I’ve just been caught doing something filthy in public. Something in me doesn’t just stir—it clicks.Like I’ve been waiting for this exact invitation. Like my body already knew what it needed before my brain could catch up. I drain the rest of my whiskey, set the glass down, and click on the post. My fingers are already trembling. The application opens. It’s short, but not casual. No fluff. No bullshit. Just questions that expect honesty. It wants to know what you like, what you don’t, what you want done to you and how badly you want it. The whole thing feels like it’s watching me back. Clinical. Hungry. Waiting. Name: Optional. No real names. Experience Level: Choose one—Curious, Trained, Devoted. Hard Limits: List. Kink Checklist: Required. Select all that apply. — Impact Play, Bondage, Edging, Degradation, Praise, Objectificatio
Simone I nearly drop my heels trying to unlock the door with one hand while juggling my phone, my purse slipping off my shoulder like it's trying to escape the night right alongside me.The keys finally slide into the lock with a reluctant click, and I shoulder the door open just as Lilla's voice crackles louder through my phone, sharp with laughter and timing. "Tell me you at least got a good drink out of it," she says, her tone already smug like she knows the answer. "Barely. Sparkling water and half a flute of warm champagne I didn't even finish." "Nothing worse than having to go in dry," Lilla snorts, and I can hear the sound of her lighting a cigarette. "I don't think I can survive another corporate circle jerk," I mutter as the door slams shut behind me. My heels hit the entryway tile with a clatter that echoes in the too-quiet condo. "Seriously. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of success, not a goddamn stroke fest. Just a bunch of dick-sucking and preening in
Dakota Xavier didn’t rush.Even after the last tremor faded from my body, he took his time easing out of me, setting me down gently onto the chaise like I was something breakable. He kissed my forehead. Rubbed warmth back into my thighs. Whispered things I didn’t quite catch, but didn’t need to. It was in his hands. His voice. The way he looked at me like I was still center stage, even though the show was over.Aftercare, he’d called it.But it didn’t feel clinical.It felt like being seen.He unbuckled the belt from my wrist and neck, careful fingers tracing the faint red line it had left on my skin. His hands were steady, slow, as he cleaned me up with a warm cloth from the drawer beside the chaise. Then he helped me dress—like the night hadn’t reduced us both to sweat and sin and gasping.My legs were still a little shaky, but the feeling wasn’t pain. It was satisfaction. Like my body had finally been used in the way it had always wanted to be used.He held my hand as we stepp
Dakota Over his knee. Just like that. My breath hitched, hands gripping his thick thighs to steady myself. He slid my panties down slow, letting them fall to the floor, then reached behind and unclasped my bra. Nothing between us now. Just skin.“This won’t be like the crop,” he said, voice right above me. “You’re going to feel this.His hand slid over my ass, fingertips skimming the welts still singing from the crop. "Back of the thigh this time," he said, voice low and steady like a promise he had every intention of keeping.I barely nodded before I felt the first strike.The belt cracked against the back of my thigh and I jerked—fuck, that one hit different. Not stingy like the crop. This was heavier, deeper, sinking into my muscles and dragging heat through every inch, all the way down to my toes.Fuck, it hurt.He waited, gave me time to breathe, then gave me the second.I gritted my teeth and locked in—not on the sting, but on what I’d get if I took it. Him. His cock. Everyth
Dakota The world came back in pieces.The sawhorse was sticky under my thighs. My wrists ached, faint and pulsing where the cuffs had held tight. My breath was still uneven. Hair in my mouth. Sweat cooling on my lower back.Then I realized it—everything had gone still. Not just around me, but inside me too. The silence wasn't soft, it was heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. I blinked, lifted my head—and fuck me, we had an audience.Just a few, but enough—hovering past the tape line, lingering near the curtains, eyes burning with that quiet, filthy kind of hunger. Some of them had that look, like they were imagining themselves in my place, bent and begging in Xavier’s hands.Others? They looked like they wanted to be him. Wanted to command. Own. Wreck someone the way he just wrecked me.Xavier didn’t look at them.He grabbed the curtain and yanked it closed without saying a damn thing, shutting out the hungry eyes, the noise, the leftover thrum of everything we’d just
DakotaThen came the first strike, yanking me straight back into my body, right into his hands. The crop cracked across my ass and holy hell, it lit me the fuck up—sharp and mean and perfect. I gasped, body jolting, thighs trying to clamp shut around his hand on instinct, but they were strapped around the sawhorse.“That’s the game,” Xavier said. His fingers never stopped moving—slipping in and out of me like he had all the time in the world. “You get close, you get corrected.”Another strike. Harder this time. My breath caught in my throat and came out as a cry. I didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure. Both, probably. Maybe that was the point.“You don’t come unless I say,” he murmured. “Not until I decide you’ve earned it.”He pulled his fingers free, slow and slick, and I whimpered—empty and aching and wanting more. Then came the hum. The sound alone nearly made me come. Low, vibrating, deadly. The anticipation was worse than the impact.When he pressed the vibrator to my clit, my
Gwen “I’ve never…” he started, then shook his head. “I’ve never had anyone take control like that.”I held his gaze. “And like it?”He exhaled. “No. That was... fuck.”“Intoxicating?”His mouth tilted up. “Fucking addictive.”I smiled, and it felt like a crown sliding onto my head. “Good.”He ran
GwenI drank him in, slow and shameless, cataloging every detail. My mind raced with every filthy thing I’d seen at the club. Every scene, every act, every flick of a tongue or clench of a fist I’d memorized from the shadows. And now, all of it was spilling into a list I was dying to write across t
GwenI led Ryden down the corridor like I owned it.Because tonight, I did.His hand was laced tight in mine—tight like a man holding the edge of something too steep, too sudden. I didn’t slow down for him. I didn’t check to see if he was sure. He could stop me if he wanted. But he didn’t. He fol
GwenI sank between his spread thighs with more confidence than I actually felt—shoulders squared, breath steady, even as my heart pounded like a war drum in my chest. The floor was hard and cool beneath my knees.I wasn’t a pro. Not by a long shot. But I’d spent enough nights in the shadows of Fan







